


You Don't Have To Choose

by fullmetalgallifreyan (js_who)



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Gaby kicking ass, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Multi, OT3, Smut, Threesome, everyone is confused about their feelings basically, some fluff here and there, there will be smut in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/js_who/pseuds/fullmetalgallifreyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another mission for the team but now there's an added twist each of them has their own problems with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since I saw this film in august I have been obsessed with it. Now I finally got myself to writing an own fanfiction because I just love these characters and their dynamics so much!
> 
> It's the typical pretend-boyfriend-mission but it's my fav thing to write in fanfics so here you have it! Also, I noticed there are still so few fanfictions for the Ot3 so I thought I would give it a try and write just a long story.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta readers: Finn (yes I am using your pseudonym now, get over it), friend and TMFU obsessed partner in crime.  
> And: Aga, my fav polish and volleyball obsessed friend (you can find her on fitzwhiddles.tumblr.com) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and let me know if you like it! :3

Illya wondered at what point in his life he had chosen the wrong path so that he ended up here.  
He wondered that most of the time since he teamed up with this annoying American he could now, at least to some degree, call a friend though they didn’t get along most of the time.  
But they made a good and rather successful team, that was true he had to admit.

Tables had turned and now it was different.  
A different thinking of ‘why did I end up here? What did I do to deserve this?’  
It was all Waverly’s fault, that was for sure but he could’ve always backed out, taking matters into his own hands and just leave.  
He hadn’t done that though.  
Gaby came to talk to him about it and how it would be the only possible and most secure way to get to know the new target and, in the end, bring it down. 

For sure, Illya didn’t want to disappoint Gaby.  
Since Rome he had felt affection for her, though they did never do any more than these almost-kisses. From time to time they threw each other lingering looks, but that was all.  
It was better, they both knew it as affection was no good in a professional team of spies, who risked their lives all the time. They had to stay focused. 

It was a pain now. Staying focused.  
He hated this mission already and they hadn’t even properly started. It had all began 2 days ago:

“Next target, gentlemen”, Waverly said sliding a folder over the new mahogany table he had treated himself to.  
Napoleon picked it up first as usual.  
It was just their thing: Napoleon looking through it, asking questions, Illya silently watching and listening to their conversation and occasionally throwing in how much easier it would be to just shoot the target with a sniper rifle. Or break their neck if it became physical.  
Gaby would just question everything, especially asking who came up with such a stupid plan for a mission and sometimes arguing why she had to be the orderly and innocent wife or girlfriend again. 

Not this time.  
As Napoleon read the file his face didn’t show any facial expression. Gaby peeked over his shoulder to take a look, while Illya was mostly uninterested as usual.  
For him it could wait, he never needed to know the details.  
He waited for his orders. 

Tapping with his fingers on the expensive wood Waverly explained further,  
“Jacques Thenardier. One of the wealthiest co-chief executives in the world, employed at one of the biggest and most influential banks in this world.” He used his hands to highlight his words, elongating them dramatically, “and also one of the most well-known illegal art dealer on the black market. Pseudonyms he uses most often are ‘Laurent Lefebvre’ and 'Gaston Blanc’ but nowadays he goes by the name of 'Phillipe Marchand’. Solo you better know how to speak French because you three are taking a little trip to Montpellier.”

Gaby shrugged and stepped back from Solo looking confidently at Waverly.  
“France. Nice. Maybe I should get a new bikini to swim in the Mediterranean Sea, shouldn’t I?”, she asked cockily suggesting to put it on U.N.C.L.E.’s bill.  
Solo was still reading through the document. Illya noticed it took him longer than usual, so that he became kind of worried. If there was anything Solo had a problem with, or considered problematic, it must have been a huge thing and a fault he couldn’t imagine U.N.C.L.E. would make when creating a mission plan.

He only noticed how tense he had been when the American spy slid the file over to him regarding Waverly with a smile.  
Illya took it starting to read the life story of a man he had never met, just how it had always been.

“I just want to make sure I interpreted this plan correctly, not that I have a problem with it, but”, Solo put in a little pause to let the weight of his question sink in on everyone,” you want me and Peril to seduce one of the most influential people on the planet, legally as well as illegally, but we must be a couple because he doesn’t..like?… single men?”

“You and Gaby”, Illya said absent-mindedly still having his eyes on page one of the file.  
“No, not quite, Peril.”, Solo gave back. “What? No way!”, Gaby half laughed, half shouted grabbing the file from Illya’s hands and reading it herself.

Her eyes widened and a big smile spread on her face as she just couldn’t contain her amusement. Illya processed the information he had just been given. Slowly. He just stared at nothing in front of him, the people around him getting blurry.  
He wasn’t dumb, he could put two and two together and the more he thought about the solution he got for this problem, the more he felt a rising red heat boiling behind his eyes.

Suddenly he pushed his chair back standing up and making his way over to Gaby to wrench the file back from her.  
Gay. Okay, nothing new. He had had missions with gay men before, it was familiar so to say. What he didn’t like was page 6 which contained the basic information for their new identities.  
A low growl made its way up from his throat, barely audible but not less threatening.

“Woops, I think someone’s got a problem with his job”, Gaby said turning away from Illya in case she needed to bring some distance between them should he smash something in the room. 

“This. Is not acceptable.” His Russian accent was thicker than usual, a result of the anger which was eating him up. He threw the file back on the table staring at Waverly like a bull at a red flag, readying himself to attack. Last-mentioned took the file carefully and put it away into the drawer without showing any sign of fear nor shame about the plan Illya considered a true abomination.

“Well, Mr. Kuryakin, I have to tell you, you’ll have to accept it. There is no other way to do this. Even if we would want Solo to seduce him, he can’t turn up with Gaby as the reports show Thenardier doesn’t like women in the slightest.” 

Solo looked up at Illya and tried to calm him down.  
“It’s okay, Pe-”  
”No, it’s not!”, Illya stopped him mid-sentence slamming his fist down on the table.  
Waverly jumped up more concerned for his table than himself but the Russian didn’t put all of his strength into the punch. There was no crack to be seen, luckily.

He flattened his suit jacket and sat down again casually crossing his legs and spinning around towards the window with his chair. “It cannot be helped. Discuss that matter with each other. The important issue is to get the job done. I expect no more or less.” 

With that said he was done and gestured them to the door with a swift swirl of his hand.

Solo took the opportunity immediately throwing his colleague a side glance to offer following him outside. Illya fought the hesitation which held him back, told him not to attack but to back down. This was a fight he had fought regularly in his life but it didn’t get any easier over time.  
It never did.  
It was to guarantee his own survival to back down in some moments of his life though he had the best training in how he could act differently. 

Waverly and the others weren’t the enemies though. They had rather saved him from an insecure future at the KGB and he may not have shown it most of the times he had worked with them, but he knew deep within he felt thankful.

Not that it was his ideal life choice but he preferred being safe from brutal execution if he ever did wrong in the slightest.

Without a word he glanced at Waverly one last time before following Solo outside. He waited for Gaby to follow as well, who told him with a nod she would catch up on them, so he violently shut the door so much so that the whole room shook for a second.

Gaby approached Waverly’s table and seductively leaned herself down on the expensive wooden desktop. Her boss turned in his seat again, now with his sunglasses on, expectantly watching her. “So… about that bikini.”

 

 

“This is unacceptable.” Illya’s anger was now one of the cold kind.  
Dripping from his eyes with looks and from his mouth with words like icy water. 

Anyone not used to the sight and sound would probably start praying for their dear life, Solo thought. They had been waiting in the hallway for Gaby. Solo knew that they had to discuss the issue.

The Red Peril was more than upset, he was furious and he somehow felt a little insulted by that. After all he considered himself a pleasure to work with and it wasn’t like it was the first time for the Russian to spend so much time with him on a mission. Though, maybe not that intimately, Solo had to admit.

While he let Illya seethe, he kept himself quiet. He needed his words for later and already tried to think of a way to convince his partner it wouldn’t be such a bad plan after all.  
It would take a lot of convincing, he figured that already. He would need Gaby’s help as it became obvious during the last few missions that she was the one most capable of calming him down no matter the state of his rage.

Napoleon Solo had spend some time, of the months they had been working together, on figuring out the many stages of Illya Kuryakin’s rage. He had figured out there were only 4 so far:

1\. The finger tapping and eye twitching state, almost unrecognizable for the untrained eye but the first sign of him being utterly irritated by what he was dealing with.

2.The hissed warnings to not go further, also often accompanied by more physical gestures such as making himself big, hovering over his victim, using hand gestures and stepping closer.

3.The throwing and destroying of inanimate objects, which was pretty self explanatory and last but not least…

4\. Attacking right away, be it a full on tackle or just a knock-out punch, just whatever it was needed for his opponent to go down.

Right now Solo feared he would be irritated enough to be in stage 4 as he had punched the table already.  
That was why he rather wanted to wait for Gaby to join their little party.

“You can’t possibly be okay with that, Cowboy?”, Illya said.  
It was more of an order than a question. 

Though knowing he walked onto dangerous territory he chose to be honest.“Well, I have to tell you it wouldn’t be the first time for me to have such a mission. So, actually I am, yes.“  
He lifted himself off the wall he had been leaning on as he saw Gaby exiting Waverly’s office.  
Time to go. 

Illya gaped at him indignant about the confession but unable to express himself as Gaby shut them both up and told them to follow. 

She had a satisfied smile on her face so Solo figured that at least she was in a good mood now. 

He wondered what deal she had settled with their boss and had to grin about how far the Little Chop-shop Girl had come in her career of defeating all the men who ever wanted to put her down.

Now it sometimes seemed like she was the boss of U.N.C.L.E. after all. 

He certainly didn’t want to take the job in convincing Peril, so he hoped she would volunteer or at least right now it seemed like she would.

Also, if they wanted to succeed on this mission he had to keep his pretty face, not that he would openly tell that, but it was a fact that his face would be a necessary asset these next days. 

Though he didn’t say a word, Solo noticed Illya balling his hands to tight fists and his eyes looking emptily at some point in front of him that didn’t exist. 

It was obvious he was racking his brain and Napoleon Solo knew it was going to be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I can continue uploading once a week. It will be tough but I keep the chapters short anyway so yeah..
> 
> Thanks again to my lovely (official?) beta reader Aga (fitzwhiddles.tumblr.com). She does a wonderful job, adding her opinion as well as helping me with vocabulary and stuff!   
> Next chapters will be longer! I promise (can say that because they are actually already done)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

When the clock hit 2 a.m. they still weren’t done. It had been a night full of arguing back and forth between three parties. After trying to convince him it could actually be quite funny and over really quickly, Gaby and Solo had tried a different approach by shooting one fact after another. 

How it was impossible it could be Gaby and Solo or Gaby and him as the target only liked men and couldn’t stand women at all.How Thenardier only lusted after guys, who were taken. How only the two of them had the skill and wits but also the right dose of charm to engage in conversation with him and to spy on his mansion.

At mentioning the charm, which both of them were supposed to have, Illya shot Gaby a questioning look.   
When had he been blessed with charm, he asked himself.  
He knew she just tried to flatter him to get him to agree with all of this nonsense.   
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Illya already felt humiliated just by thinking about it and it hadn’t even started.   
He did not feel ready to play Solo’s boyfriend because…it was just Solo!   
Also a good Russian man would never be an American’s romantic partner…then again a Russian man wouldn’t dare to be a man’s romantic partner at all, he thought to himself. 

He kept a stoic face, not ready to give in to their arguing and he was showing that pretty clearly by pouring himself a drink and letting himself sink onto the couch, trying to just ignore them.  
“Illya that’s ridiculous”, Gaby attempted to get to him. Solo had already shut up devoting himself to studying London’s nightly skyline with a glass of scotch. 

Illya looked up as he just couldn’t bear ignoring her no matter what it was about. She had done too much for him to deserve that, whether she had realized that or not.   
And Illya felt like he owed her some kind of loyalty, which usually he owed to nobody.   
His bosses bought his loyalty.

“It is?”, he asked. nonchalantly taking a sip from his vodka lemon. He knew it was not his best plan but he didn’t think about stopping to behave like a stubborn child. 

“We need to do this and it will be over soon. You just have to play your part like everyone else, we can catch this guy and we’ll be done there.”

He continued taking sips from his drink feeling Solo side-eyeing him who was obviously expecting a reaction after Gaby’s attempt to get emotional. He knew Solo was aware of his attachement to Gaby.  
This man wasn’t stupid and had walked in on them almost kissing, but it annoyed Illya nonetheless. It was a weakness that could be exploited and he didn’t like being vulnerable in the slightest. 

“No.”, he answered gulping his drink down in one swift motion, setting the glass down on the table and attempting to leave.

All of a sudden Gaby grabbed his arm pulling him back in front of her. He was startled for a moment, looking down on her small figure.   
She scrutinized him, a defiant expression settling in her eyes. 

“Okay. The hard way then”, she mumbled. 

“What are y-”, Illya managed to get out before she slapped him straight across the face. Immediately his ears began ringing and his vision got slightly blurry. He tried not to explode in an instant.

His eyes warned her not to do it again, but before could duck or catch her arm his cheek made contact with her hand once again. She stepped back, a confident smirk on her face as she turned away looking satisfied with her work, though he couldn’t figure out what was the point of all that. 

The only thing he knew was that he didn’t want her to get away with it so easily.   
He felt rage washing over him and before he could stop himself he rushed after her.

She saw it coming. She had planned it.   
Gaby used her advantage of being smaller and more agile than he was. 

The room didn’t grant them much space, so Illya went for a basic grab move, which she avoided ducking away under his arm, taking one on the way with her and kicking the back of his kneww while she pressed and held his arm in a painful position.

He went down straightaway but tried to grab her with his free arm knocking the antique vase of the living room table when he slammed against it.   
She retorted the move by just turning him onto his back and coming closer than necessary.   
He could do nothing but stop in his movements for a second after realizing just how close she was. Her breath tickling his face like silk-like.   
She came even closer so she only had to whisper for him to understand.

It sounded very much like a threat.

“This is important”, she said softly but determinedly, “So, you will get your head out of your ass and just do it like a good agent would, capiche?” 

Illya stared at her in awe, his mind feeling hazy.  
He couldn’t stop himself from nodding, his mouth gaping open and his eyes wandered from hers to her mouth, which hadn’t been this close in a long time.  
It felt like a decade to him.

He got lost in watching her face unable to control his hands finding their place on her waist, not that he had noticed the instinctive movement anyway.   
Gaby didn’t seem to mind or at least she didn’t show it. She was transfixed by him as well but didn’t dare to move an inch.  
The only one who had full capability of his body was Napoleon, who’s voice ripped them out of their trance.

“Looks fun, can I join the party?” Illya blinked, the remembering thought of where they were rushing through his head and leaving the reminder of what a stupid man he had become.   
This woman could literally paralyse him whenever she wanted, if she wanted to.  
But in the most beautiful way possible Illya came to think, before politely wiggling himself free from underneath Gaby who just stood up to give him more space to get back on his feet again. 

He flattened his shirt straight and then nodded.

“I’m in…but I still don’t like it!”, he said pointing his index finger up to clarify.  
“That’s all we need”, Gaby said, crossed her arms and then left the room without another word.

Confused, both men looked after her and then at each other.  
Solo’s silent question hovered between them but Illya didn’t have an answer to it.   
After all he didn’t do anything wrong, did he? He agreed, that was what they all wanted.  
Solo let out a sigh, unbuttoning his vest and folding it neatly to hang over the chair.  
He took seat across from Illya getting out a pen and some paper from the table’s drawer. 

Illya watched him silently. He still didn’t quite know what to think of the mission, but now he had given in and he would play his part as well as possible.  
He had to.  
He didn’t want to and again his inner resistance told him to just quit it all, even after nodding in agreement when Gaby had strangled him down.

“Back to business.”   
Napoleon scribbled on the paper deliberately ignoring his partner’s silence.

“So, I am supposed to be an antique dealer…how original. And oh, see you are my boyfriend, the architect, U.N.C.L.E. was very creative again.”   
Illya jumped up.

“I can’t do this.” He made his way to the window rubbing his face. 

He needed more time to get comfortable with this. This whole situation and even just thinking about what was about to come made him tremble. If with fear, anger or something else entirely, he couldn’t figure out at all.

“You played this role perfectly last time, Peril”, Solo replied giving him a, what was supposed to be, cheery smile but to Illya it just felt like a personal insult.

“Yes, but back then I wasn’t your boyfriend if I remember correctly”, he angrily replied gritting his teeth after just saying this dreadful word.

“Hm, do you?”, Solo asked and Illya needed a moment to process what he meant with that bold question.   
Napoleon wiggled his brows and grinned.

“Don’t make me punish you, Cowboy.”

“However much fun that could be, I have to decline. We have things to discuss.”

Illya sat back down. He wouldn’t admit it but he felt more at ease after this little dialogue.   
He had to acknowlede that the Cowboy was the best expert he knew when it came to conversation as it was like some kind of superpower he possessed.  
He was in control of what it was about and how people felt in his presence.   
He could irritate anyone perfectly but could soothe anyone’s raged mind as well.  
It was fascinating, yet annoying to Illya as he was well aware of that 'trick' and actually should be able to stand against it.

“Will you be standing there for the rest of the night? I want to go to bed as soon as possible so if you’d please hurry up.”   
Without any counteraction Illya sat down again listening to Napoleon who had already planned their second lives out in every detail.   
Where they’d met, how long they’d been together, why they had studied their specific subjects, what they liked to do in their free time, separately and together.  
When he came to the topic of future plans it got even weirder. 

“We would like to buy a house at the Côte d’Azur with a nice garden and maybe a dog.“

„Why would you want to live there?“, Illya questioned his plan.

“Because it’s nice”

“It’s too expensive, I, as a Russian citi-”

“Yeah, well we are fairly rich and you aren’t half of a patriot as you are in real life. Good that we settled this“, Napoleon declared this topic to be over.

Illya scoffed, “This is never going to work.”

“We will have to see about that. Have a little faith, Peril”

”Of course, Cowboy”, he mockingly used the nickname.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, new chapter! Thanks to everyone who gives kudos, leaves comments and just in general enjoys this work. 
> 
> Like I said the next few chapters will be longer starting with this one but I don't think anyone will mind, will you?
> 
> Enjoy!

And so, they had ended up here. In a men's tailor shop looking for a new suit for each of them and Gaby helping them with their choices.

Waverly had called Thenardier in disguise to set up a meeting with his best and most trustworthy antique dealer, John Cane to discuss a deal for an ancient vase the banker was supposed to own.  
Of course he had let the information about Cane’s partner slip through and Thenardier had been more than interested in meeting and inviting both of them.

It would be a fancy private dinner at Thenardier’s mansion in Montpellier tomorrow. Illya was still not fond of the idea to play Solo’s boyfriend but the routine of preparing for the case, obtaining and readying all the necessary equipment had gotten the best of him. 

Now he was just annoyed again because he didn’t like shopping. He couldn’t get himself to be as excited about the new navy blue suit Gaby held up in front him as she was.

“Solo is already wearing that colour”, he said studying a collection of ties in front of him.

“Yes, duh. You two should match, you are a couple after all”, she answered seemingly proud about her choice as she had spent about an hour picking, what she thought was, the right suit for him.

Napoleon stepped over to them already wearing his choice of clothing. He appreciated the help but didn’t trust anyone to pick a suit for him. He knew his taste best after all and he wasn’t inexperienced with formal clothing.

“That’s a tad cheesy, Miss Teller. But I have to admit navy blue is your colour, Peril.”

Illya scoffed and grabbed the tie he liked best, a thin bordeaux one with simple small black dots. Solo raised an eyebrow and Ilya threw him a look that warned him not to say anything wrong. They had had such discussions before.

“It won’t match a navy blue suit.”

“Well, good that I won’t wear… A navy. Blue. Suit!”

With a sigh Solo turned away regarding the rest of the collection they had chosen to look through. Gaby, now a little upset, brought the unwanted suit back to where it came from.

She was supposed to play their official assistant. That way she didn’t have to come with them to the dinner but could wait outside in the car and was always in reach, just a phone call away if needed.

She had thought that practicing by shopping with the guys would help her to ease into the job.  
Turned out Illya’s child-like behaviour already began being a pain in the ass for her and in-between her attempts to sell him a suit he would consider wearable she wished she would just play the girlfriend again.

But Gaby wasn’t the kind to give up.  
No navy blue? Fine.

“Try this”, she said coming back from the closet almost throwing the piece of choice in his face.

It was a grey suit, not to light nor to dark, and after seeing the tie Illya had chosen she figured she just had to look for a piece that fit the tie instead of trying to convince him to take a whole other outfit.

He took it unwillingly but at the very least he took it, turned it in his hands and gave an affirmative nod.

“Doesn’t look to bad….will try.”

Gaby couldn’t but let out a sigh looking heavenwards and thanking a god she didn’t even believe in for finally having made it.  
After almost 3 hours in the same shop.

While Illya was gone, Napoleon returned to her side again asking where the Peril had gone.

“You did?”, he asked surprised after Gaby told him she had actually found a suit he wanted to try on.  
He was seriously impressed, she could tell, though of course, he hid it well.

“Let’s just hope he’ll be okay with it so we can leave. I need to practice my French before we get to Thenardier”, Solo grumbled a little.   
Gaby knew he could actually shop for tailored clothing all day. She remembered their last trip to London vividly.  
Her and Illya waiting for him at the underground without knowing where he had left them on their way, just to go back, search the whole street and find him inside a shop in one of the most tiny hidden streets of London.

“Phillipe Marchand”, she corrected him as they had to use his pseudonym.

“Of course, thank you”, he threw her a little sarcastic smile just the moment when Ilya stepped out of the fitting room now fully dressed in stylish grey and his bordeaux tie.

Solo examined his partner his eyes tracing every inch that was to be seen and trying to find a flaw to complain about if he was being honest with himself.

Gaby was just proud of herself. A big smile showed up on her face and over and over she thought perfect, perfect, perfect.   
Because of the outfit alone or the whole sight in front of her, she wasn’t sure and she didn’t care. He looked stunning and she, as a grown woman working with two handsome men, could swoon over it as much as she liked.

Illya adjusted the jacket one last time and then looked into the large mirror next to him.  
He liked the colour, the way it fit.  
Over all a good choice.

“Quite good”, he let the others know, “I’ll take it.”

“Yes!”, Gaby squealed excitedly clapping her hands and was immediately on her way to the cashier.  
“Thank God…”, Solo just groaned and threw his head back, “Took you a good while, Peril.”

Illya ignored him watching himself in the mirror a little while longer.   
He hadn’t gotten a new suit in months and already made plans to get one more when he got his paycheck.   
Maybe it was Solo’s fashion sense rubbing off on him but occasionally now he liked not wearing a turtle neck. Too plain, too strict, too much a reminder of his past KGB services he wished to put behind him.

He adjusted the jacket and tie over and over again roaming his hands over the expensive fabric as it looked so nice and smooth. He felt worth everything now and it was a nice feeling.

Solo appeared next to him in the glass of the mirror looking as casual as always with his hands tucked away into the pockets of his pants regarding them both.

“Seems like we make a pretty good pair after all”, he said while they exchanged a look through the mirror.

Illya didn’t know what to make of the look dancing in his deep blue eyes.  
To not drop a clanger he just kept quiet. He felt irritated by the American again intruding his personal space when he had just began to enjoy himself and he knew Solo was aware of that, which irritated him even more.

“Well, working on other missions already proved it, hm Cowboy?”  
“I suppose it did, yes.”

That said he turned away again aiming for nowhere.

They got out of their bought suits while Gaby paid with U.N.C.L.E.’s money and the three headed back to their hotel.   
They had planned nothing else except waiting at the hotel until the next day though Gaby had suggested visiting a bar or club. At least something a little more exciting than sitting around all night, watching Illya playing chess against himself and Solo excusing himself for the night to fuck the receptionist lady of the hotel.

Both men politely declined her offer.

 

They still had 2 hours left before the limousine would arrive to pick them up and bring them to Thenardier’s mansion.   
Gaby would follow them 10 minutes later in an own car as Napoleon had insisted to have their assistant by their side even if she was just waiting outside. 

They discussed their plan again.

“Peril and I will get in, have a nice dinner and take a walk with the target. You”, he pointed at Gaby, “are responsible for bugging the outer area, just let someone show you the garden. We’ll take the house.”  
Gaby nodded, “What if he takes a liking to one of you two?”

Illya felt his neck reddening at the mentioning, his throat suddenly getting dry again.  
Napoleon put away the documents he had laid out for them to study one last time.

“That’s actually what is supposed to happen…if we are lucky”, he answered.

“We will just leave. This is a business meeting. We come as a couple, we leave as a couple. The rest is planned for the next few days.”

Gaby stirred her drink while listening to him and thinking. Hard.  
“Have you ever practiced being a couple the last days though?”

Illya shot Napoleon a concerning look which the American returned with one of the same kind, furrowing his brows as he came across the flaw they hadn’t thought about yet but should have.

He needed to be in control and he knew he could be as he had done pretend-relationship missions before.  
And Illya as well.

“We should be good. After all we are used to it, you know, pretending,” he explained smiling confidently.  
Now it was Gaby’s turn to shoot Illya a look.

He felt it and he knew that if he’d look at her she’d know as well about his insecurity, because he was damn well sure they wouldn’t be good just out of the blue.  
Regardless his instinct kicked in, he returned her gaze and therefore told her everything she needed to know.  
They agreed in silence and looked back at Solo who was silently obligated to answer their questions.

“What?”, he played dumb.

“We should…practice, Cowboy.” Illya had to clear his throat mid-sentence, cheeks turning slightly red. He felt the heat coming up and hoped nobody would notice in the dim-lighted room.   
Solo just put down the drink he hadn’t even finished after an hour now.

“What is there to practice if I may ask? Every couple basically acts similar regardless of gender.”

“Yeah, but he’s not familiar with a douche a like you, so I think it would be a good idea,” Gaby told him without blinking and judging him slightly for not having more sensitivity for his partner.

“Fine. Then come here, Peril”, Napoleon said pointing on a certain spot in front of him.  
Illya grimaced as if he was in pain.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Could you please just play along for a minute here?”

Illya nodded, looked at Gaby again as if he needed her approval and stood up when she encouraged him with her hand to join Solo.   
His tall figure was less intimidating now that he looked all flustered next to the American. He didn’t know what kind of instructions to expect.  
When Solo moved closer Illya moved back at first so the other man put his hands up in reassurance to let him get used to the closeness.

Without saying a word Solo came closer again and now Illya forced his body to stay where it was, though the only thought crossing his mind was to either flee or attack right away.   
One option was embarrassing, the other unnecessary because the man next to him wasn’t his enemy, he told himself over and over.  
Then Solo tried to take his arm. Slowly.

“The only thing”, he explained without rushing,” that is quite important to be convincing, is touching as in every relationship. I will put my hand on your arm like this.” He placed his palm on Illya’s upper arm taking another step towards him again, now almost completely closing the gap between them.

Illya watched the hand on his arm, then his eyes shot back up to Solo’s trying to calm his nerves. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gaby watching them and he couldn’t get himself to continue breathing.   
He stiffened under Solo’s touch but didn’t want to make a fool out of himself by running away like a scared child.   
He was a professional after all.

So was Napoleon Solo, especially with seducing women and men of all ages and he kept on going with his lecture.

“And here and there I will slide my arm around your waist”, he said and did so in an instant. His other hand left Illya’s upper arm as he turned to stand next to the Russian throwing him a dashing smile from the side the moment Illya’s hand naturally fell into place on Solo’s back.

It was like he was trapped in a void, his eyes not able to move away from the American’s face. He studied his features, these blue ocean-like eyes, the sharp jawline and the spy’s thin but delicate mouth.   
Solo definitely was a sight.

Only Gaby’s rough cough brought him back and Illya quickly brought space between them again just now noticing how sweaty his palms were.

“Looks good. Though, I think it’s not that intimate, is it?”, Gaby tried getting them to practice a little more just for her pleasure to be entertained.

“Intimate enough. Professional business meeting, remember?”, Napoleon answered her and Illya had to take a seat again rubbing his hands on his pants to get rid of the wetness.

She shook her head, hands flying up: “Okay, okay. You’re the boss.”  
Solo was confident. They could do it. And they would.

If something unusual came up he would improvise as he always did and he was sure Illya wouldn’t destroy the illusion in front of the target even if it meant getting out of his comfort zone.  
He knew enough about the ex-KGB agent to know he did a thorough job. For his own safety and the safety of others around him.  
Their mission wouldn’t fail.And soon all of this uncomfortable atmosphere would vanish again.

With a barely audible explanation Illya excused himself to get ready keeping the door to his room shut and Napoleon could even hear the key turning in its lock.  
He had to smile to himself.  
It was kind of cute how his partner behaved. He was a grown man after all and in his whole career of being an agent Napoleon could hardly believe he had never been in such a situation before.  
It probably wasn’t usual for the KGB to work like that but still.  
In his life he had met the most diverse people and it was part of why he enjoyed his job from time to time.

Sadly most of the time he had to put the interesting people down not able to engage in deeper conversation with them.

He made a mental note to go out with Peril to get drinks and inquire about his colleague’s life one night in the future.Since they had teamed up he had felt a desperate need to get to know him better despite them having their issues with each other. A feeling he didn’t have with a person in a long time.  
He emptied his drink, sat it down and excused himself as well.  
Gaby didn’t care being completely taken in by a magazine. She had chosen not to deal with any more inconveniences before starting work in half an hour.

 

It had taken Illya longer than usual to get ready. After his “practice” with Solo he had to sit down immediately after closing the door behind him.  
He even locked it and was unable to explain why. Nobody would come in without knocking anyway. 

When he had stepped away from Solo he had remembered to how to breathe again, doing it slowly and silently though to not let it show.

In his room then, all alone, he had almost choked on the air for a few seconds, his chest rising uncontrollably. 

The most scaring part was that he didn’t know what to do except squeezing his eyes shut and hoping for it to be over soon.  
The last time had had such an outburst had been a long time ago at the Siberian training facility he had been drilled at when he was 16.

Here, there was nothing to be so overwhelmed with, he thought to himself to keep his mind calm. He was safe.  
He wasn’t even scared but didn’t know in which category to put the feeling.

When his breathing had eventually steadied he got up and got dressed as if nothing had ever happened.  
Not thinking about it was his way of getting over it and, after all, he knew he had a job to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! One week late...sorry! But I hope the waiting was worth it. 
> 
> I digged out the last bits and pieces of my french class knowledge from school but if there's anyone who finds a typo in the french sentences I would appreciate a little shoutout.
> 
> Aaaanyway thanks again to my beta Aga! You da best, gurl. 
> 
> And now, on to the mission which is FINALLY starting to happen! Looking forward to write it as I've never written something with a mission or secret spy stuff, I will see how it turns out. Have fun!

“Your ride is here, boys. Let's do this”, Gaby yelled through the hotel room packing the last of her necessities into her handbag.

When Solo and Illya stepped in her field of vision in sync, she examined them approvingly raising her thumb and nodding.

Both men looked stunning.  
Even more so together, ready to bring their victim down but also happy about having the benefit to experience a nice luxury dinner again.

“So sad I can't join you,” Gaby complained grabbing a grape from the plate in front of her and popping it into her mouth. “Maybe next time.”

“I can take you out afterwards, don't worry”, Napoleon answered throwing her a wink, his professional smirk already placed on his face ready to seduce whoever came his way if necessary.

She declined as there would be no thrill in that, so what was the point. She was ready to wait and listen the whole night to the men talking so she had put together a midnight snack for herself.  
Okay, maybe “snack” was a little light-hearted, it was a bottle of her favourite champagne, some fruit, sandwiches and a little caviar.  
Her last trip to buy food basically stood under the motto of “treat yourself”, so she had done exactly that.  
And also had bought herself new shoes.

But still she also was a little concerned.  
Illya didn't seem to be comfortable in his new role and all she wanted for him was to be okay, to be alright.  
He hid it well but she saw his fingers trembling. Just the tips of them.  
His eyes roamed around cautiously as if he was being hunted and she felt a little bit guilty of putting him in a situation he didn't want to be in even if it wasn't her fault.

She couldn't say if Napoleon shared her thoughts about this.  
Now he was his usual cocky but elegant self so it was hard to tell for her.  
She just hoped he wouldn't do something stupid in regards to overwhelm Illya by playing a part they hadn't acted out.

Illya probably wouldn't be happy about spontaneous kisses in front of everyone.  
In the end she figured Solo valued his flawless facial features enough to not come up with any ideas like this.

She followed them down the stairs like a good assistant would, handing them both their coats at the limousine and wishing them “a pleasant evening”.

They threw her a smile before slipping into the dark hole that was the car and she was dismissed by the driver who tipped his head for her.

She watched them go off until they were out of sight.  
Then Gaby went upstairs again, got all the technical spy equipment and headed for her own car.  
Well, rather the organization’s car, but only for this night the 62 Alfa Romeo Giulia belonged to her and she already knew she would go by a devious route when heading home.  
Solo, as well as Illya, had bugged himself.  
That way she was able to listen to their entire conversations if she wanted to.  
After all one doesn't want to hear everything most of the time as there were topics which actually should stay in private.  
She had it before.

Gaby took seat in the nice leather cushions, putting in the gear and driving off in the direction Waverly had told them the mansion would be.  
Half way there she switched on the instruments for the first time this night.

The Mansion was huge.  
Illuminated by thousands of lights such as lanterns and torches giving it an awing aura which Illya felt respect for.

He and Solo had spent the whole car ride in silence.  
The only sound buzzing through the limousine interior was the driver’s radio where Illya noticed some jazz song escaping from.  
He had always liked jazz.

He held onto that thought the whole time trying to deconstruct the song in its various melodies played by each instrument and struggling to understand the lyrics over the loud engine.  
Solo next to him didn't move an inch either staring out of the car window into the black night the whole time.

It felt awkward to say the least.  
For a few seconds Illya was worried they were already being watched over and should behave more like a couple to not seem suspicious.  
Then he tried to relax again, told himself that everything would go well.

When he saw the mansion he was stunned, but at the same time it wasn't surprising one of the richest men of Europe possessed such an incredible building right at the seaside.  
When the door was held open for him Illya could actually hear the Mediterranean Sea rushing which started right in the mansions backyard.

He could smell the salt water and felt the soft wind blowing on his face that came with the waves.  
Now there was no turning back and he put on his best, cheery smile when Solo attempted to link arms.  
He allowed it. He couldn’t not to allow it, actually. They were supposed to be dating for two years by now.

However nervous he was, Illya hoped it didn't show. If Solo was nervous, of course he didn't let it showquite successfully.  
He was probably too cool with this to be nervous, Illya figured silently attempting to copy Solo's behaviour.

But Solo was the one who spoke louder, spoke first when greeting a maid or a butler while they made their way through wide corridor decorated with several paintings and statues.  
Illya remained mostly quiet by his side.

The mansion was an art gallery itself.  
Illya never understood much of art.  
Of course he could appreciate someone's skills but why people thought Wassiliy Kandinsky's paintings were more than just some nice colourful designs he never understood and probably never would.  
Solo had more insight on this and after all he was the antique dealer.

The butler who lead them stopped in front of a light-brown wooden door. It was approximately 2 meters high, almost all the way up to the ceiling.  
After a light knock with his white gloved hand, the pair and their butler waited for a signal to enter.

It seemed as if they had to wait a bit too long, what was actually just a few seconds felt like minutes to Illya in which he sent his partner a look to check if Solo seemed concerned or not.  
Last mentioned just gave him a reassuring smile which actually, for once, seemed genuine and not a well acted and controlled facial maneuver.

Illya was stunned believing it was the first time he saw Solo smiling like this.  
He couldn't decide if it was real or just really good acting.

His gaze left Solo's face again when the door rumbled starting to swing open slowly.

A middle-aged man with dark brown hair but streaked occasionally with grey emerged and he had a bright grin plastered onto his face.  
So bright that it was almost painful for Illya to look at.

Solo left his side to step forwards and reaching out with his hand to greet their target.

“Monsieur Marchand, enchanté de faire votre connaissance. Je suis John Cane et c'est mon petit ami Andrei Barinov“, Solo introduced them using Illya's fake indentity for the first time.  
They had agreed to settle on a russian name again as Illya's accen't was unmistakable.

„Oh, Monsieur Cane, je suis très impressionné, you have practiced your French!”, the man laughed shaking Solo's hand excitedly.  
“Don't worry though, I am perfectly fine with English.”

He moved on and Illya already had his hand ready for him to shake smiling politely and nodding when they made eye contact.

“Bonne soirée, Monsieur”, Illya greeted him in French as well.

He gestured them both to follow him demanding his butler to get the dining room ready and lead them in a spacious room with a large sitting area, expensive carpets and a cozy fire place.  
The large window front revealed a view into a beautiful garden at which's end the sea affiliated and the horizon began.

They were offered to take a seat so both let themselves fall onto the couch behind them, keeping a few centimeters distance between each other while Thenardier fixed drinks for them.  
More precisely a wine he suggested them to try.

“Gentlemen, by all means, you don't have to be cautious around here. I wouldn't want for two lovebirds to hide their affection”, he spoke handing them a glass of red wine each and noticing the space between them.

Solo smiled thanking him for the reminder and jokingly explaining that usually his boyfriend played his assistant on most deals, so that it was just unusual to be open at first.  
Then, with a little jump, he moved closer to Illya, their shoulders now brushing against each other.  
Illya tried to keep a calm mind. Nothing was happening after all.

He felt rather stiff and he was almost sure it was noticeable as Solo regarded him with cautious eyes that silently asked him what was wrong, requesting him to relax.

“It's so nice to have you here. I hope you will like the piece Mr. Cane. It's stunning, I promise you”, Thenardier raised his own glass to his lips after welcoming them.

Something about him simply screamed “dangerous” and usually their targets didn't give off such a threatening vibe.  
Illya had yet to decide how to handle him.

“Well, even if I don't, our client certainly will. After all he chose it”, Solo engaged in conversation.  
It seemed so effortless when he talked to people. The men were discussing the value, smiling more than friendly at each other and laughing louder the more wine they drank.

All Illya did was joining them in smiling here and there when it was appropriate or when Thenardier looked at him to get his approval on certain topics.  
He desperately waited for the dinner to be already served so that he had something else to do than listening.

“So, how long have you known each other?”, Thenardier asked looking expectantly at Illya as if desperately trying to get him to speak.  
The approached one was startled for a second looking at Solo as if not knowing what to do.  
His voice was unusually raspy and he tried to hide his accent as best as possible but it just didn't want to work out.

“Uhm... roughly 2 years now”, Illya began lying.

“Magnificient! But how exactly did you meet? You don't see America and Russia teaming up very often, do you?”, he said and winked jokingly.  
Solo and Illya looked at each other, their counterpart didn't even know how ironic his statement was to them.

Solo chuckled suddenly grabbing Illyas hand that had been resting on the Russian’s knee.  
Not a moment too soon Illya managed to suppress a shudder which had build up between his shoulder blades and went along keeping the illusion intact.

“Well, I was looking for a residence in Catalonia as I had fallen in love with the area due to work, and Andrei happened to be introduced to me by a client and friend as one of the best young architects around. I bought a nice little old finca and he helped me restore it, not only on paper.”

Solo told the story so whole-heartedly that even Illya himself could think it had really happened for a second.  
Thenardier seemed more than delighted with their little romance and was just about to ask further when somebody knocked on the door, his butler came in and announced the dinner was served.

Maybe Illya stood up a little too fast, maybe not. Maybe he also didn't care. No, he was sure he didn't care as all he wanted was to have something to do and be it just using a knife and a fork to shove food into his mouth.  
Then he also didn't have to talk and could take some moments to think about his answers before saying something suspicious.

Thenardier went ahead and as both agents followed him, Solo came to his side.  
Illya looked down in confusion when he felt him taking his hand, squeezing it gently to get the Russian out of his head and back to reality.  
When Solo's skin touched his, Illya's hand felt numb though.  
The only feeling came from the spots which were touched by his partners fingertips. Tiny prickles but not necessarily unpleasant, just strange and foreign.

Why did he do this? Keeping up the act? Nobody was looking in that moment and Illya was thankful for it.  
As thankful as he was for the comforting action of Solo though he never would've voiced it aloud.

He tried to bring himself to smile at the American.  
It was a tiny, barely visible smile but he knew Solo noticed and appreciated it because it would tell him that everything was okay, that Illya was okay.  
With himself and the whole situation hopefully.

They entered the big dining room.  
The table seemed to be endlessly long, Illya estimated it to be roughly 6 meters.

Thenardier felt the man's eyes wander around.

“I often have guests, so at some point I was sure a good big one would benefit my meetings”, he laughed, “Please, take a seat, gentlemen.”

His butlers each pulled the chairs and waited for them to take place.  
They sat on the opposite side of the table than Thenardier facing him like two corners of a triangle.

This time they got served a white wine.

The waiter rushed in immediately after they had sat down, pushing a silver food trolley towards their table.  
When he lifted the cover a fine, hefty but also sweet scent arose, the warm steam clearly visible and only adding to the stunning eyesight the meal clearly was.

“Gentlemen,” the waiter said formally, “Today's serving: roast pork with apples, cider vinegar, and rosemary accompanied by duchess potatoes and a Chenin Blanc.”

That said, he excused himself and the agents clinked glasses with their target.

Now that the meal was right in front of him, Illya felt his stomach rumbling. He eased up a little bit when another waiter took his plate and placed a piece of the meat in front of him.  
This definitely was one of the advantages of his job.

 

They were already in for an hour. So far there had been no information of interest for Gaby, just boring art conversations and some love story- telling.

She poured herself another glass of champagne and added some caviar on the cracker she held.  
The parking lots were right in front of the walls of the mansion allowing her to have a good look on the house and the guards wandering around watching her suspiciously.

Gaby had already had a little chat with one of them introducing herself as the assistant of Cane and told them to check the invitation list.  
She was on it but not allowed inside, so as far as she would remain silent and waiting outside she should be good.

Inside the car nobody checked anything so she could carelessly continue listening to her partners while having a meal and being bored to death by the snobby conversation.

Apparently Thenardier loved talking.  
He talked about himself, how he became a collector of the arts, about his job and position at the bank and how “incredibly incredibly lucky” he was to have the job but also that, of course, hard work always paid off well.

In between his speeches she could hear Solo chuckling and agreeing, trying to keep the conversation going by asking more details, sometimes throwing in an amazed gasp.

Gaby, on the other hand, felt like puking. What a pretentious snob, she thought as she bit into her self-made tuna sandwich.

Solo did most of the chatting while Illya still remained quiet throughout the whole meal.  
Then, Gaby could hear Thenardier clearing his throat, the target approached the more important topic for all of them.

“So, Gentlemen. Would you care for a little walk to get to know the piece?”


End file.
